


Sometimes we call it feeling alive

by cm (mumblemutter)



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Banter, Case Fic, Death, Gen, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John hasn't set foot in a church in years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes we call it feeling alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [engmaresh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/gifts).



_King Saul fell upon his sword in the last battle on Mount Gilboa_  
 _and died at once. So too we fall upon_  
 _our sharp-edged souls when we are born,_  
 _but we die only seventy or eighty years later._  
 _All those years, life writhes within us, every motion_  
 _and emotion pierces deep, but we grow used to the pain._

  

  

  

They catch a case: someone's carving up priests, leaving pieces of them in the most creative of places.

It's a political act, or a terrorist one.

"What kind of god do you guys believe in," John asks, as he drives to the latest crime scene.

"Same one as you do, John. Which is to say none at all. Except you were raised Catholic, weren't you? They say it never leaves - only gets forgotten until needed."

"What does?"

"Faith, John."

John snorts. "I prayed that I wouldn't be partnered with one of you guys."

The grin Dorian flashes him is brief, but amused. "God works in mysterious ways."

\----

"But being decommissioned isn't the same as dying, is it," John says. "You can always come back."

"No, not all of us do. I had no expectation that I would be revived. In many ways it's like belief in the afterlife. There's always a possibility, but you can never be sure."

They interview an administrator, who says she saw a man dressed in black running from the church, a bloody knife in his hand. "Who would do such a thing," she says, and starts to cry.

Dorian leans forward, takes her hands into his own. "There will be justice done. The wicked shall receive their due."

John stands there, hands on his hips as she collapses into Dorian, puts her head on his shoulder.

\----

"I think she likes you," John says.

"I was offering her comfort in a time of great distress. Her faith had been shaken - you'd be surprised how much a," he pauses on the word, "human touch helps."

"Naw, she definitely likes you. Is it even a sin if it's a robot, Dorian? That's what she's asking herself right now."

"Tell me about Sunday church with your mother, John."

John speeds up the car, forces all thought out of his mind until the world is a flickering bulb, with Dorian at its periphery, speaking but not saying a word.

\----

He didn't lose faith in god, he lost faith in humanity. Same thing, more or less.

\----

Anna smiles at him, her face beautiful and clear. "Hey, sweetie," she says. "Wake up."

John opens his eyes and it's Dorian, leaning over the bed. "We have another body."

\----

"I didn't see anyone dressed in black," the only witness says, and he keeps throwing glances at the MX standing guard. "Just the screaming."

"We need your help," Dorian says, and the man turns to John.

"I want him out of here - can we get him out of here now, please?" He sounds terrified, and John nods his head. 

He hears Dorian leave the room with the guard, shut the door behind them. The witness leans forward, whispers, "It was one of them."

"A cop?"

"An MX."

\----

"MXes don't kill people. They don't possess the right psychology for serial killing."

"He's right," Rudy says, peering into his microscope. "Even the DRNs tended to be overly emotional on the right side of justice. Took matters into their own hands more often than not. That's what got them shut down."

"Sounds familiar," Dorian says, turning towards John.

"What's the Luger test?"

Dorian doesn't answer. Rudy just blinks.

\----

There's no fix for phantom pains, even with the replacement. His leg aches and itches like his body still believes it's there. "The pain will go away if you accept the limb as part of your body," Dorian says, when John rubs at his knee. 

"What do you know about my pain?" 

"Your pupils are dilated point five millimeters. Pain receptors are firing, even with the absence of flesh." 

"If they took away your junk, would you feel it?" 

Dorian visibly shudders. "Don't remind me. I still have to live with them. Although now might not be the best time to bring up my living arrangements with the captain." 

"Probably not," John says. His leg twinges again. Accept the limb, he tries to tell himself. 

It doesn't work.

\----

The captain's upset. She says, "Someone leaked the intel on the killer to the media - they're assembling a committee to discuss if all MXes should be permanently destroyed. I'm receiving pressure to take our only active DRN offline as well." 

This in front of Dorian, who stares impassively ahead. 

"Now hang on there, Captain. We have no evidence that an MX is even responsible - they can't do that."

"Of course they can, John," Dorian says. "If they feel the public safety is at risk."

"Dorian's not even one of those tin cans out there."

"It doesn't matter," she says. "MXes, sex trade bots, worker drones. If this gets out of hand they'll recall every one of them - do you know how much money it will cost the department? The city."

"Captain," John says, and stares directly into her eyes.

"You have twenty-four hours."

\----

They drive to the next crime scene, and Dorian says, "Thank you for that."

"I just didn't want the hassle of breaking in another synthetic. They might not heat my coffee to the correct temperature."

"And here I thought you'd miss me if I were gone." There's a smile on his face as he turns his head.

"Don't push it," John says.

\----

On the way back to the station, John asks, "Instead of decommissioning the DRNs, why not turn them out into the sex bot industry? Seems like a natural fit."

"If you wanted a whole bunch of heartbroken, unstable androids, sure. Unless you were talking about my body, in which case thank you for noticing."

"Now, hang on there," John begins, and then can't think of anything else to say besides, "so it's either an MX or someone who hates MXes."

"It's not an MX."

"They didn't know you guys were going to go crazy until you did."

"We were made to be like you," Dorian says. "The MXes don't feel much of anything."

"Maybe one of them became, you know -" He waves a hand around.

"Unlikely," Dorian says firmly. "Trust me, if you'd spent less time throwing them out of moving vehicles you might have actually learnt a thing or two about their model."

"I haven't done that in ages," John says, injecting wistfulness into his voice and sliding his gaze over meaningfully to Dorian.

Dorian smirks. "I'll cross-reference anyone affiliated with the church who might hold a grudge against synthetics. It might take a while."

John sighs, and pushes the word 'abomination' out of his mind.

\----

Stahl calls, says, "So I found a link between all the victims."

The first witness, who conveniently happened to either have worked at the parishes or knew the priests in some capacity or another.

She's not at the church when they come looking for her. A harried looking Sister says, "I don't know. She was always a little odd. Forgive me," and she looks at Dorian. "You shouldn't be here."

The Church has a complicated relationship with androids, especially the ones with personalities.

"Come on," John says. "We're done, anyway."

\----

Dorian says, "If they decommission me -"

"Don't worry about that."

"I'm not worried. I'm a cop, I'll be one no matter what. I'll see you again." His fingers are on John's cheek. 

They never touch. John's not truly touched someone since Anna. "What's it like, to be programmed to want something so much?"

"It's kind of like love."

"They have a program for that?"

Dorian says, "I just want to be a cop, that's it. It is what it is, John."

His fingers are still on John's cheek. 

\----

They find her hiding in a small parish, tending to weeds in a garden. She runs when she sees them coming. Fast, for a small, middle-aged woman. 

She goes down screaming when Dorian catches her, slumps in his arms.

\----

"Why," John asks. 

She's asked for Dorian to be in the interrogation room. They'd found a face maker and a neat stack of knives under her bed after they'd gotten the warrant.

"I was married, you know? We were happy. Then my husband saw an ad for a sex bot. He kept -" She starts to cry, the tears rolling down her face. John pushes a box of tissues towards her, but she ignores them. "My lawyers said it wasn't adultery, which I could live with. But Father Michael - he said, 'be glad it wasn't a real woman,' and then he patted me on the back." Her eyes are bright with the conviction of the insane.

"I would get my faith back soon if I were you," John says. "You might need it on death row."

\----

"What made you think I would have been there when you opened your eyes again," John asks.

"Faith," Dorian says.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and verse taken from [The Precision of Pain and the Blurriness of Joy: The Touch of Longing is Everywhere](http://greatpoets.livejournal.com/1892164.html) by Yehuda Amichai.


End file.
